


Thief In The Night

by GypsumLilac



Series: A Simple Roll Of The Dice [3]
Category: Undertale
Genre: :), Manipulative Sans, Neutral Ending, Not post-pacifist, Reader has never seen a monster, Reader is human, Undefined gender, Undefined orientation, or at least that's what I tried to do, possible two-shot, reader is a thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsumLilac/pseuds/GypsumLilac
Summary: You are a thief. You like stealing things...And there's a puppy. You like puppies, right?This summary is probably very misleading... Never trust summaries. Ideally the summary should hook the reader into reading the story. You are probably not hooked, but at least you now have a random FYI that you probably already knew and are now wondering why you bothered reading all this in the first place. Well, if you did, why not click on the link to read the actual story ;p it couldn't hurt, right ;p :)(Being Edited)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)  
> there is no uber-aggressive Sans here, sorry ;P but there is manipulative Sans ;P  
> cause I'm trying to work on his characterization after I completely muffed it in my other fic,(which i am still trying to edit, thank you very much). also I may or may not extend it to a two-shot, just cause... well, you'll see ;P

The wind howls through the silent suburban streets. In the darkness, you creep underneath the windowsill of your target house. You absentmindedly brush the twigs from the bush out of your way as you stand and peer into what looks to be a living room.The coast is clear. Wincing when the window creaks, you spritz the sides with oil and open it the rest of the way. You lift yourself onto the windowsill easily and hook a knee over it to pull yourself into the room. Your shoes make no sound as you slip cat-like onto the carpeted floor. The windowsill will have to stay open for a quick getaway, but you slide it down most of the way so the draft doesn't wake anyone. Static fogs your head and you stumble against the wall, freezing up as you hit it. You move away from the wall carefully when no one seems to have been awoken and examine the room.

The TV is too large to fit in your bag, unfortunately, as is the couch. You take the remote though. It’s always a laugh to mess with people by changing the channels randomly and you can sell its parts once you’ve had your fun. Searching in the couch cushions gives you a dirty sock, a book, and twenty thick coin-like things. You leave the disgusting sock at first, and pack the book in your bag. After a second’s consideration, you take the coins as well. They might be valuable. To keep them from jingling and giving you away, you decide to stuff them in the sock. 

There’s nothing of value on a table by the door to the next room. A rock that’s covered in sprinkles, but no one will buy that. Looking into the next room, you grimace as the smoky smell hits you. It appears to be a kitchen with cupboards to the side, and a refrigerator and a really tall door in front of you. You slip some of the utensils from the cupboards into your bag, as well as what seems to be a good pot. You debate looking for the light switch, but while that would let you see what you were doing it might also alert the occupants of the house to your presence. So you continue looking for anything resell-able in the dark cupboards. When you move on to search the fridge you gasp at the myriad of containers containing spaghetti. Your tongue wets your lips and your stomach growls like a hungry lion. You only take one. Well, alright, maybe two.They won’t miss it. On the same  logic, you slip one of the bottles of ketchup lining the door into your bag. 

You close the fridge door quietly and open the really tall door sticking out of the wall. There doesn't seem to be anything in it except for a couple of faintly glowing cartoony bones and a cute dog dozing on the floor. The dog is gripping and drooling on one of the bones. You poke one warily and jerk your hand back. Nothing happens. You reach for it again and this time you pick it up. It’s smooth, almost slippery, and the glow is almost comforting. You open the mouth of your bag to put it in, then pause to look at the sleeping dog. It’s not like the dog doesn't have any other toys. And this could get a good price on the market. But you put the bone back down softly next to the dog and sidle away. The dog raises its head and yawns; you freeze. It cocks its head at you and makes a little yelping sound. You shush it and close the tall door quickly. Hoping that the noise didn't wake anyone you sneak back to the living room, listening all the while for any non-dog sounds. But no one comes and you relax a bit. 

You should go now while you know it’s safe, but you haven't checked up the stairs yet. But that is where the occupants are asleep. Then again, if you’re stealthy, you could get more loot and be gone before they woke. Mind made up, you step softly onto the first stair. It groans underneath your weight and you quickly remove your foot. Stupid, creaky, junky stairs. But they can’t stop you. You carefully sidle one foot back onto the first stair, laying your weight on it slowly. When you are completely balanced on that foot, you move your other foot to the next stair and shift your weight carefully to it. Making your way up the stairs in this fashion is laborious but you encourage yourself with thoughts of the spaghetti you will eat later. You give a sigh of relief when you reach the top. The first door is before you. You grab the handle and start to open it- “heya.” 

You screech and fall backwards down the stairs. So much for silent progress. Your bag crunches underneath you and you wince guiltily. The dark rounded shadow looming at the top of the stairs snorts. Scrambling to your feet, you grip the bag behind your back in a futile attempt to hide it. “Uh, it, uh, isn't what it looks like…” Oh wait, no, it is probably exactly what it looks like. 

“really. you mean you are not planning to kill my brother in his sleep?” The shadow rumbles.

You back into the window and scrabble for a grip, keeping your eyes on the probably mad owner of the stuff you just stole. “Wha- no! I wasn't gunna kill no-one! I just- uh, was- gunna-“

“take all his stuff, huh.” The window isn't budging.

“Yeah! I mean, no! I, uheheh, wasn't doing nuthing.” Your teeth stretch in a scared smile, completely unhelpful in the darkness. Stupid tongue. Stupid knees. 

“okay.” The shadow turns away from you and plops onto the couch. You try to open the window again, but it refuses to move. You just oiled it, too. Left it open… did you accidentally close it all the way? You were careful about that, too. But even when you try to mess with the lock, the window remains stubbornly shut. “why don't you try the door?” The shadow says helpfully. Oh. Right. There’s a door. 

But when you walk around the couch to the door across the kitchen door, it refuses to open. You put down your bag softly to use both hands, and even try pushing against the wall with a foot while pulling on the door handle. It. Won’t. Open. Finally you sag against it in defeat, gulping down air. When you regain some measure of composure, you whisper to the shadow, “Do- do you think you could, uh, let me out?” Shame heats your neck, but if he was stupid enough to just allow you to go before then maybe he’ll be stupid enough to open the door for you. 

“nah.” Your hope shatters against the sharp rock of his slightly amused reply. 

“Oh.” You slide down the door onto the floor, next to your bag of incriminating items. “Okay.” 

“wanna sit on the couch? you don’t look so comfy there.” The shadow pats the space next to himself. It doesn’t really matter anymore. You’re done for. The only hope remaining is to get out. If that means cozying up to this guy and getting him to trust you, so be it. You drag your bag to the side of the couch, one hand on it as you sit down. Then you freeze up as a pbbbbbbbbttthhhhhffffftttt trumpets beneath you. 

“Uhhhhhh…” It’s probably good that he can’t see how red your cheeks are. Your face cheeks, not your… never mind. The shadow guy laughs, a deep rolling ‘heh heh heh.’ It isn't very funny at all. 

“watch out. some weirdos like to put whoopee cushions on the seats.” His tone is genial, unlike his previous inquiries. If he’s comfortable enough to prank you, next he might be comfortable enough to open the door for you. Except… if he gets too comfortable… he’ll fall asleep and then you’ll be a goner when morning comes. He kind of sounds like that kind of person.

“Heh, yeah, totally got me. I’ve been owned. Uh, could you open the door now?” The shadow turns toward you. If you could see anything beyond outlines, you would most likely see an innocently confused quirk in their eyes. “nah.” Seriously. “that would be too much work.” 

You plead with him. “Oh, come on!” Your plea is super ineffective. So ineffective that shadow-guy just laughs again.

“hey, you know where the remote went? i was going to watch mettaton’s show.” The question is posed without any undertone of suspicion, yet a sickness roots in your bones. Trying to appear innocent, and failing, you lean over the couch arm and dig in your bag. 

“Ah ha!” You cry upon grasping it from the bottom of the bag. “Here. It, uh, was just under the couch.” He takes the proffered remote and lays back in the couch.

“really. thanks, pal.” He says; disinterest, or disbelief, evident in his voice. You shiver, hugging your arms. It shouldn't have gotten cold so quickly. Unless you are only just noticing it. 

Your arms fly up to shield your eyes  from the blinding light as the TV clicks on. There’s no sound, presumably because shadow-guy doesn't want to wake his brother. You glance over at shadow-guy. A shriek in your throat tries to break free, you keep a tight lid on it though. Instead you squeak and jump away from the couch. Away from the skeleton. The thick round skeleton who is wearing a hoodie and some kind of black shorts and grinning creepily at you. You aren’t sure how his eyes are supposed to work, they’re completely empty and black. That is somehow even creepier than his grin. Or the fact that he is an ANIMATE SKELETON. “you okay there, buddy?” How is he talking without opening his mouth. That shouldn’t be pos- no, none of this should be possible. All you wanted to do was rob a house. That shouldn't have been such a big deal, not for you. And now the owner is either some kind of weird cosplayer, or the zombie apocalypse started. 

“Hey, man.” You hold your hands up appeasingly, dropping your bag. “Nice, uh, costume? Good eye for details, uh, like the holes in your legs- and oh, you've got no throat either, eheheh…” Your knees are jelly. So you collapse onto the floor to sort things out. The skeleton huffs, or makes a noise like huffing. He shouldn't be able to breathe in the first place! He has no throat!

His rumbling voice cuts through your shock and gives you something to focus on. “hey, you know, the kitchen has a real nice cupboard. lots of utensils, a nice pot too, and a paper bag. what’s the paper bag got to do with anything? well, i hear it helps with human panic attacks. you are a human, right?” You nod, dazed, as you try to stand up. Utensils. A pot. Something about a paper bag. You start to stumble out to the kitchen. “aren’t you forgetting something?” Oh, right. Your bag. You pick it up, almost falling down again, and then you go out to the still-dark kitchen. 

Groping around in the empty cupboard, you find the paper bags easily. Looking down at the two bags in your hands, you’re hit with suspicion. He knows, doesn't he. You don't know what he did to the door and the window, but it has to have been purposeful. Windows don't just not open after being oiled and all. You sigh. The inside of the cupboard does seem pretty lonely. You rummage around in your loot bag and pull out the pot. When you stick it in the cupboard, the weight on your chest lessens somewhat. Fine. This operation was a complete bust anyway. You place the utensils back in the cupboards, careful to put each in its place. The weight is almost non-existent. Maybe you still can make your escape. Maybe this is all some crazy dream or hallucination. 

When you’re done you walk back out to the living room. Then stop stock still. He’s still there. And he's still a skeleton. If this is a dream, it’s an extremely realistic one. It takes a great mental push to get your legs to move you to the couch again and sit down beside the skeleton. You end up hugging your loot bag on your lap and pressed against the arm of the couch. The paper bag is on the floor. Oh well. You didn't need it anyway. Firmly focusing on the flashing TV in front of you, you try to pretend that you are a regular thief robbing a regular house with completely regular occupants. “Soo… Are you a real skeleton?” You blurt out, completely subverting your own attempts. 

His head- skull- face swivels to pin you with his black sockets and creepy grin. Except- his sockets aren't totally black anymore. Pupil-like lights in his sockets make him seem less, well, Reapery. Even though he isn't dressed like the Reaper and he doesn't have a scythe and- “yup. skeleton monster, actually. heh, you look like you’ve never seen a monster before. that won’t be a problem for long, the underground is full of them.” He chuckles at that and you find yourself giggling along, your face twisted in a desperate grimace. 

“Full of them. Eheheheheh, so, heh, there’s just a bunch of skeletons walking around? Underground? Am I, Oh No, I’m dead, aren't I. I died and went to- wherever this is! Ahahah…”

“relax. not sure what you’ve got against skeletons, but we’re not the only type. monsters are a unique bunch. hmm, if i had my book, i could-“ You shove the book over to his side of the couch. “gee, thanks. but i was just kidding, pal, this book is just to prank people with.” He takes it, though, and flips through it absentmindedly. “hey, you know what, though. i’d be glad to let you go for, i dunno, how about twenty G. since i know you and all.”

“What’s a G?” You ask, but you think you know. There were only twenty of those round coin things, after all.

“it’s our currency. stands for ‘gold’, i think.” The dirty sock lands on his lap, jingling with the weight of twenty gold coins. 

“Okay, now can you let me go?” You had thought he’d never let you out. 

“i’d be glad too.” He doesn't move. If anything, he melts even deeper into the couch. You stand up and stomp to the door. It’s still locked. “try the window.” You shoot the skeleton a glare, but quickly hide it in a false smile when his pupil-lights glance at you. When you stomp over to the window and try to pull it up, it doesn't open either. 

“You. Absolute. Sonofa-“

“language. my bro’s right upstairs.” His grin feels somehow reproving. “you came in here in the first place. didn’t have to do that, now, did you.” He yawns, without opening his mouth, and stretches his arms. “i said i’d be glad to let you go. never said when. or that i would. just that i’d be glad to.” Then the skeleton winks. You don't even care how anymore. You are seriously debating just smashing the window open, but you don't know how strong the glass is or how it will shatter. And if outside is going to have monsters too, monsters even stranger than this monster, you'd prefer to stay inside after all. 

Defeated, you slump back to your seat on the couch and watch the show on TV. A boxy robot is posing dramatically amidst rose petals and singing something about true love. That must be Mettaton. You aren't impressed. 

The skeleton turns to you again. “got any ketchup? i’d rather not get up.” You're tempted to say no, but whatever. You pull the bottle of ketchup out of your bag and throw it at his stupid smug grin. He leans forward in a blur, the bottle completely missing him and landing on the floor instead. You huff and sit back with crossed arms. “rude.” He slouches back again, and lifts the bottle to his mouth. Mouth agape, you stare as he downs the entire bottle of ketchup. But how did he get it, he didn't even stand up?

He winks one socket at you again and you roll your eyes, groaning. “This was not supposed to happen. Ever.” You think you're taking it pretty well, all things considered. Then your stomach rumbles again and your neck and ears heat up.  

“welp, it did. so, way i see it, you could just roll with it and have some spaghetti, or you could panic and run around like a crazy person.” With this airily spoken sentence, your suspicions are all but confirmed.

“You, uh, knew.” The loot bag is warm and oddly damp in your hands. The only things remaining in it are two containers of spaghetti. 

He nods. “yup. to be honest, you weren't exactly good at covering it up.” You flush again, but it was true. 

“I, uh, suppose I should apologize or something…” You don't even know how to begin explaining. Much less feeling guilty enough to apologize. 

“well, you did give it all back. and you can keep the spaghetti, my bro won’t mind.” He seems content to just let it go. Even if he won’t let you go. “actually, my bro will be real excited to see you. he’s only ever seen one other human, you know. made friends with them, even.” 

“Your bro sounds cool.” You venture cautiously. His smile takes on a realer quality. 

“yeah. Papyrus really is the coolest.” He seems ready to say something else, but doesn’t. 

“Papyrus, huh. What’s your name?” You inquire. He looks at you, pupil-lights seeming to cut you to the core. 

“it’s sans. sans the skeleton.” The door clicks. “it should open now. if you want a good house to rob, try the two in waterfall that look like gourds, and stay away from the fish-shaped one.” 

“Wait, really?” You frown suspiciously at him. “You were just keeping me here so your brother could meet me, right. Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“i was, but you seem like the kind of person who would rather just keep moving. so i won’t stop you. go ahead.” He waves a bony hand at you, watching you closely. You stand up. If this skeleton is so lenient after finding you robbing his house, maybe the rest of these monsters aren't actually bad either. 

“Uh, thanks.” You walk to the for and try it. It opens. Your surprise must show on your face because he lets out another chuckling laugh. “Bye, Sans. It, uh, was-“ not nice, but- “interesting to meet you.”

“was interesting to meet you too.” He’s already turned his attention back to Mettaton’s show. So you step out into cold air and snow-covered ground. Then you realize you have no idea where ‘Waterfall’ or anywhere is down here, so you turn back to ask for directions. But the door slams in your face. You sigh and take the left-hand path. What a night. At least you have spaghetti. 

**Author's Note:**

> YUP!! So, who wants a scene of Reader trying to rob Undyne!! I'll probably write it. No promises, though, I am a very despicable procrastinator... I really need to get better about that. 
> 
> Criticism is welcome!! Any and all comments and kudoses are welcome ;P Thanks for reading!!!!  
> Also I'm not really sure how well I did manipulation, like it's really obvious and stuff, but I think I have experience with guilt tripping and passive aggressiveness... but if there's something I should do better, I'd love to know, thanks :)


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